


Cold-Blooded

by perishableprincess



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Eventual Romance, F/M, Knives, Murder, Reader-Insert, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-15 08:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11802504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perishableprincess/pseuds/perishableprincess
Summary: In which you make bad decisions, meet a boy, and fall in love!...Close enough.





	1. Fatal Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really old piece I've had sitting in my drive for several years now. It's not that good, but if you like the tags, you're in for a somewhat alright time.

You caught a glance of him first when you were waiting for your bus that took you from your school grounds to your home’s neighborhood. You were standing under the protective cover of the stop, when he briskly stalked past you and turned his head to the right for a brief, paralyzing moment of eye contact. The first thing you noticed about him were his eyes, but they didn’t hold you captive for more than a second. The tight lipped grimace drew you to his mouth, where a large scar formed a more terrifying glasgow grin that would not go away. So of course, you jumped to conclusions by assuming that he was a _cosplayer_.

“I really like your cosplay!” As he passed by, you reached out to grab his shoulder in excitement. _Really smart, just going up to a goddamned stranger and telling them that you like their_ cosplay _, huh?_ Before your fingertips could gently brush across the white “blood-stained” fabric covering his shoulder, he jerked back and quickly stuck his pale white hand into his pocket. You brazenly paused like this guy wasn’t about to shank you, and gently pulled away.

“Okay, okay, sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude like that. What’s your name?” He looked down at you again with those really pretty eyes, and you made a mental note to ask him where he got those contacts from, because they were just so gorgeous! Ah, cosplay. The loud chug and roar of the bus began ringing in your ears. You stepped forward to the curb as the boy began to walk away, seizing the opportunity to escape the grasp you had on him. The bus drove right by, and kept on going. Well then.

“Oh, so you’re the silent type, huh? No worries! I’ll just, uh, take a stroll with you, okay?” _Right, because it’s not like you have to deal with, oh, I don’t know, your responsibilities and not dying?_ You shrugged off the worrying voice, and quickly registered the fact that he was leaving. “W-wait!” You cried out, double-checking that you didn’t leave anything behind as you gathered what was left of your composure to follow him.

You trailed him deep into the conveniently located forest that was oh-so-close to your bus stop, but then again, who goes and follows some weirdo into the woods? That’s right, _you_. You, the one who was so desperate to make a friend near your own age for once that you followed him into the woods.

“I’m just going to call you Jeff because, well, it’s obvious that you’re cosplaying Jeff the Killer. Why exactly are we going into the forest? Do you live there? Speaking of, where’re you from? I’ve never seen you before in my school, which actually leads me to my next question: What school do you go to? Is it a private school, which is why you don’t have your things with you?” On and on. _God, why don’t you just shut up already_. You had already begun to open up to Jeff, when he abruptly stopped short. “And then here I am, talking to this completely silent, and to be honest, really sort of creepy teenager that still hasn’t told me his-” You had bumped against the knife’s handle, hard. A reverberating sound echoed through your head, where a bruised circle was visibly indented on your most prominent facial features “Oh…”

“Stop, please, I’ll do _anything_!” Groggily, you glanced around the forest clearing as you tried to move your arms, only you couldn’t. Your head slumped downwards to notice the heavy rope restraining you to a tree behind you. _Um… what_? The loud shrieks forced you to snap back to attention, where the boy you dimly registered to be the cosplayer, no- Jeff, was dragging a teenager across the clearing you were in towards you. Her eyes glossed over to yours, and she suddenly started screaming for attention. “Hey! Hey you! Yeah! Tied up over there! Do something! My life is actually at risk! Hey! Wake the hell up-”

You watched in horror as he quickly dug his fingers into the girl's hair and began to yank. Loud cries of pain erupted from her lips as he finished dragging her, stopping right in front of you.

“Hey! Looks like you’re in a bit of a sticky situation, huh?” Jeff was now looking directly at you, and you knew from the stretched smile and the smooth beads of sweat dripping down his porcelain white face that those were not contacts he was wearing. That was not white face paint he had applied. That carved grin was not special effects makeup.

“It’s okay, though.” He was holding a knife, stained with aging blood splatters. “I’m sure she’s gonna feel it more.”

 


	2. A Supposed Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. You might wanna avoid getting killed like that.

Many different thoughts raced through your head, the first settling in quickly:  _ Jeff the killer is real, and he’s about to murder a girl in front of me _ . Jeff smirked back as you looked up worriedly at him and the girl; he seemed to know just what you were thinking about. You could have let all that fear that you had bottled up inside loose and become the stupid, sniveling mess that you always became whenever faced with stress. You could have failed yourself, and accepted imminent death. But you were stubborn, and you were gonna use your determination to save your ass. 

He had directed his attention away from you and back to the sobbing girl he held by her hair. Bending down to meet her on eye level, he held the knife with his free hand, while the other was entangled within the girl’s coarse and dark hair.

“No, no, please…” The girl’s tears dripped onto his blade. The murderer pulled the knife away from her cheek, then replaced it at the base of her neck. She squeaked, and squirmed several times before losing the energy to fight back. 

“Just… go to sleep.”

She accepted her death; it was slow. 

He teased her with the tip of the knife, gently caressing the skin before it tore and plunged in. Jeff dragged the blade across her neck. You watched helplessly as more tears brimmed at the bottom of her eyelids; her eyes lolled back into her skull and she was gone forever. 

He promptly released his clutch on her hair, chunks of it coming out as her motionless body fell to the ground. You felt bad for the girl, but no tears came to your eyes, which worried you -but also made your chances of survival go up. If your plan was going to work, it required you being an emotionless and insensitive prick as well as kissing up to Jeff.

“Nice to see your emotions shine through! I didn’t realize that I was dealing with such a heartless bitch.” He snickered and turned away from his former victim, looking you up and down with a sneer. “Well, whatever. Time to wrap this up .”

In only a few short strides he was looming over you, and you noticed just how much the killer reeked of death. He crouched in front of you and cut your ropes loose; before you could do anything to change the position you were in, he grabbed you by the hem of your jacket and pulled you up with him. You did your absolute best to remain silent. At least, until he placed his knife at your neck. 

“Are you gonna start talking now, princess? Or does this knife need to be lodged about two inches deeper in your fucking neck for you to open your mouth?”

So you did what you did best. 

“S-sorry! Um, well, I was so busy just now… uh, looking at you! To be honest, you’re really pretty. Not that I like you! It’s more like I… admire you?” You looked back at him to gauge his reaction to your utter and absolute bullshit. The mixture of confusion and apprehension on his face was enough to give you some hope to continue.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it, I admire you! Because you’re so smart and so gorgeous, uh-huh. Who wouldn’t wanna look at you? You’re just… so…-”

“Beautiful?” His eyes were so bright, glittering with something other than malicious intent for once, and you were forced to stare back in awe.

Starstruck, you realized you had made the biggest mistake.

The pressure of the blade on your neck lessened and Jeff slowly pulled away the knife away from your skin, facing the tip of the blade towards the ground. The grip on the hem of your jacket loosened, and you found yourself able to breathe again. 

“You really think I’m beautiful…?” He looked down at you again with those baby blue eyes and damn, they were his one saving grace about him. 

“W-well, yeah! I’d even… I’d even… I’d even help you continue to be happy, because you’re so much more beautiful when you’re having fun!” You cracked a hesitant grin. Even though he was always smiling, his natural smirk stretched so wide you were worried that his skin would tear. 

Hold up.

Did you just think that you were worried about him? Oh my god, there’s no way you’d pity that disgusting and horrific murderer. But it was too late. The time in the fanfiction had come where you would settle to feel something less than utter and absolute hatred for the deranged, crazy, insane, mesmerizing, horrible, terrifying-

“Good, ‘cause you just said you’d help me, right?” 

_ Nononononononononono.  _

“It’d be a shame if you had to get hurt.”

_ GET YOUR DISGUSTING HANDS OFF OF MY FACE _

_ STOP STROKING MY CHEEK LIKE I’M SOME KIND OF DOLL _

_ STOP _

“Stop touching me-”

His fingers stopped their circular rubbing motion on your cheek and pulled back in anger. He swung his open hand against your face. The sting was sharper and crisper than you expected, and you turned your head down towards the ground in disgust. 

“Don’t you pull that kind of shit on me ever again, you hear?” His voice trembled with fury, and if it was even possible his pasty knuckles desaturated to an even paler shade of white. The anger in his voice quickly melted, replaced with an poisoned honey so strong you could smell the sweet fumes rolling off of his tongue along with the words that nearly made you puke.

“Remember, I’m the one who had the knife against your throat. I’m the one who chose to spare your pathetic little life. I’m the one who owns you now. Isn’t that right, -”

He whispered your name into your ear, and your heart dropped down to your gut. 

“That’s right, I know exactly who you are. So don’t fuck up your next chance at life, otherwise I’ll be, ah, taking care of it for you.” Jeff tilted his head to the side, an obvious gesture of him attempting to be cute, and giggled. 

“Now, I think you’ve seen enough. Time to go nighty-night, princess.” He wrapped his fingers around the side of your skull, holding your head in his hands, and bounced it off the tree behind you.  _ Not again… _ You thought as the world around you began to dance.


	3. Too Cool For School

Your fingers reached out and grasped for the sheets beside you. Your eyes were still squeezed shut in fear, but the comfort of your own bed spread relaxed your eyelids open and you came to recognize the familiar ceiling of your bedroom.

_ What was I even…  _

The memories of Jeff tracing stars with his knife on your skin jolted you into a sitting position and your fingers twisted into the bedsheets, shock coursing through your veins from the thought. Out of instinct your hands flew to your throat, where you expected there to be scars, wounds, or gashes from the blood-soaked knife he held at you. There was none. 

_ Was it just a dream, and I’ve lost a screw? Or was it really… _

You shook your head no, no way did all that mind boggling stuff actually happen. Comfort melting down your spine, you glanced at the clock to see what time it was. 

“I’m gonna be late!” You cried out, tossing on a fresh turtleneck and jeans as you fussed over makeup. “Man, fuck going to school without eyeliner.” You hastily drew your wings and scrambled to the bus stop with your school bag, carelessly shouting ‘I love you’ to your parents before locking the front door of your house and walking to the bus stop. 

Time ticked on by as your bus finally arrived. You swiped your card and found a comfortable one-seater towards the back of the bus. Listening to some of your favorite tunes, your earbuds pulsed with music as you approached your school.

You walked straight to your locker, dumping the binders you needed for later classes inside. A couple of teens were lurking nearby and talking way too loudly for their own good. 

“Did you hear about what happened to that freshman? She was totally, like, murdered!”

“What the actual fuck, yo?! That’s mad fuckin’ crazy!” 

“My uncle’s a cop, and like, this is classified information, but her throat was slit like all violent and shit!”

_ Oh no. _

_ No. _

_ This can’t be happening. _

Your locker door slammed, snapping you out of your daze. You glanced first at the tiny hand resting on the door, then down at the owner. 

“Oh! Hey, Harry! What’s up?” Harry laughed and adjusted his backpack, before looking at you with more concerned eyes. 

“Yo, you didn’t even text me once last night. Everything alright?” You paused, ready to blab about your crazy experience with Jeff, when you realized that Harry’s life would be at risk if you said something. Jeff mentioned that you would die if you told, but what if he took someone else? 

“I… I had… I was just- I had a lot of homework, way too much to be spending my time talking with geniuses like you. B-besides, anything new you’re working on?” Harry smiled, then chuckled.

“I’d thought you’d never ask! So, the other day I was thinking…”  
You walked with Harry to your next class, and wished him luck with his new project. The rest of the day went by a blur, and soon you found yourself at that intermediary bus stop where everything had spiraled down yesterday. Your paling knuckles gripped the straps of your bookbag, sweat beading your hairline as you prayed for the impossible. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, getting way too close to comfort. You didn’t need to turn your head to recognize who it was. Your body froze up as you felt his warm breath on the side of your face.

“Look alive, sunshine. You’re coming with me.” His fingers forced your palm open, where the cool blade of a knife danced against your skin. _ Not again.  _

In a fashion that would be considered cheerful by most, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the bus stop, once again heading into the nearby forested area. You stepped into the dense underbrush of the woods, eventually coming upon the same area that you were in yesterday.

You visibly tensed up, nerves rippling through your system.

“Relax, baby. You might not die tonight.” Unable to bring yourself to even glance at him, you glued your eyes to the ground, making sure not to trip over the littered branches on the forest floor. His shove sent you toppling down, and a sharp pain shot up your spine as you made contact with the muddy ground. 

You looked up at him, and saw his arm raised, knife poised directly at your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut and wait for the impact. There was a loud thunk to your right. Hesitantly, you forced your eyes open and saw that the knife had embedded itself into the ground beside you. Jeff snickered at your apparent bewilderment. Your first instinct was to reach up, grab it, and try to use the knife against him. But a smaller, wiser voice in your head whispered,  _ Don’t. Don’t do it, he probably has another stashed in his pocket or something. Just follow his instructions, and wait for your chance.  _

Your fingers curled around the handle, and yanked the knife out of the soil. It eased into your grasp, and you desperately wished to deny liking how it felt. 

“Like how it feels?” You gulped and nodded a nervous yes. “Good. You’ll be needing that. Stay right here.” He suddenly took off, stalking out of the clearing.

_ Was this the chance that voice was talking about? Would this be your only opportunity to escape? _

It was too late. You heard something heavy being dragged, and the first thing that came into view was Jeff, dragging not a something, but a someone.

_ Does he actually want me to… ? _

“Yep! Kill this pathetic piece of shit. And maybe,” He dropped the boy onto his back and wiped the sweat off of his brow. “Just maybe, you won’t have to die.” 

 


	4. Showtime, A Guy Dies, and Heart Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title says it all.

You glanced down at the knife in your left hand, then slightly up at the squirming human before you. 

_ Well, shit.  _

Out of the corner of your eyes you peered at Jeff, who was watching you with an expectant stare. 

_ He wanted a show. _

You looked down again at the quivering person whose eyes screamed, “Don’t.” But it was already too late.

If Jeff wanted a show, you were going to give him one.

In two strides you were standing over the spindly teenager and crouched over him, swinging one of your legs over one side so that you were straddling the guy. You did your best to ignore the rush of power that seemed to flow through your fingertips, and a smile eased onto your face as your knife settled at the boy’s neck. He whimpered.

“Ah-ah-ah… You don’t get to go that easy.” Your free hand reached out and grabbed the teenager by his hair, yanking hard as he thrashed wildly. Before you even knew what you were doing, the tip of the knife slashed three times on the boy’s face, three gashes running vertically down his lips.  Blood oozed from his wounds, and the hot splash against your cheek told you some of his blood had gotten on your face. You continued to sit on top of the teenager, leaning in to gently pull back the knife dripping with blood and then-

The knife was lodged deep in his chest. The grin pulling at the corners of your lips faded when you realized that he was still alive. Your fingers momentarily loosened around the knife handle before clutching it even tighter and ripping the knife out of him. Plunging the knife inside, you repeated the process of pulling the knife back out and continued to repeat it; blood spurted out of the holes that you created, the crimson soaking your shirt, arms, and face. The wriggling  beneath you slowed, and eventually stopped. 

He was dead.

You were exhausted, and scampered off of the body before collapsing on your back right beside it. Loud, forced applause lauded your eardrums, and you panted as the spectator made his way over. Bending down to look at you, his smile stretched wider than ever with a happy expression painting his features. 

“Yes, yes! That was perfect!” Jeff extended a hand, and you graciously pulled yourself up to a sitting position. He crouched, his lidless eyes gleaming over every inch of your body. You must have looked like a mess, shirt stained with blood, skin stained with blood, everything out of place. 

Out of curiosity, you reached up and dragged your finger across your cheek, before coming to inspect the blood on your finger. 

_ My blood’s always tasted metallic, but how would this guy’s taste? _

Jeff’s eyes locked onto your tongue, which had revealed itself as it made its way towards its destination: your finger. Your tongue swirled around the flesh on the tip of your finger, relishing in the blood’s flavor.

_ Hmm. Just the same. _

You glanced over at him, and something seemed… off. 

“Is something wrong, Jeff?” He didn’t reply, and instead was focused on something on your face, or so you thought. 

Without hesitation, the killer scampered onto his hands and knees, and began crawling. Not just crawling, but crawling at you. Crawling closer, and closer, up and on you. _ Umm… what? _

His goofy and deranged smile was gone, replaced by a creepy, tight-lipped smirk that was way too scheming for your liking. His pale fingers cupped your face and came so close you were practically inhaling his putrid breath.  _ G-r-o-s-s! _

Gently, his lips came to rest on yours. You froze up, and stifled a shriek when his tongue entered your mouth. You were pretty sure that neither of you knew how to kiss, but whatever Jeff was doing, it felt good. You didn’t want to admit it, but here you were, making out with a murderer after you killed someone, both of which were weird as hell. The kiss deepened and you found yourself at a loss for air. Jeff’s hands slid behind and wrapped around your neck, while your fingers curled into his matted and greasy dark hair. 

The teenage murderer slowly pulled away from the kiss, the palest tint of pink lacing his face. He smirked, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, obviously wanting more. 

_ No, _

_ no, _

_ no! _

_ You promised you wouldn’t do this. _

_ You promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall back into these habits! _

You remembered. 

You remembered exactly why you were always such a weirdo, making bad decisions and choices without thinking about what would happen next.

You remembered why you didn’t know anyone at your high school, aside from one or two friends.

You remembered why you didn’t know the girl that Jeff murdered, and why you didn’t know the boy that you murdered.

You remembered why it felt good to kill.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay cliffhangers! We're halfway through this, so if you're still here... bless you.


	5. Context

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory flashback chapter.

“Wow, what an ugly kid ya got here, huh?” He was here again. It was your first day of third grade, and some mean middle schooler whose little brother who’s been in the same class as you since darn first grade was bothering you again. The older one’s name was Brandon, and the younger one who wasn’t even bothering you was Ernest. Brandon always hung out by the entrance your class got let out at. The teacher always walked away too fast, and your parents always arrived too late. Especially this time.

Brandon suddenly reached out and clasped his fingers around your arm, yanking you up into the air. You had no time to even react, and his hands quickly switched from from your forearm to your ankle, causing  you to flip midair. You were now hanging upside down, and a wave of nausea shivered through your form as blood rushed to the top of your head. Brandon let a grin creep up his face, and he called out for all your classmates to behold. 

“Hey! Look at this dumbass, just as ugly and stupid upside down than right-side up!” It wasn’t even that original, you thought to yourself, but the tears stinging your face reminded you that it still hurt. He began to swing you, back and forth, and you bit back the vomit. 

Then you spotted it. The switchblade. It was just barely visible, but you could still see the blade itself peeking out of his faded and wrinkled jeans. Now if you could just get a little closer…

He swung your tiny body just close enough, and your arm shot out to quickly slam into the middle schooler. You stuck your hand inside the pocket without hesitation, and didn’t even wince when you cut your hand on the open knife. Your fingers closed around the handle and pulled your hand out of his pocket. All of this waving and flailing around sent Brandon into a frenzy, but before he could do you more harm, he stumbled backwards, and tripped.

You flipped yourself right side up again as he came crashing down beneath you, and drove the blade straight through his chest. Blood spurted out of the wound, and he let out an animalistic cry of pain. 

Children began to take notice of the attack, and a young girl screamed when a huge splatter of blood hit the sidewalk. 

More and more adults flooded out onto the playground, one hysterically wielding a cell phone. Before you could react, your body was lifted up and tossed off of the middle schooler, and a parent shook the now lifeless body of Brandon.

“Baby! Brandon, no! Please, wake up!” 

Your small frame slammed against the ground, and your eyelids blanketed over your vision.

 


	6. Aftermath

“Hey. Hey, wake up!” Jeff’s voice lured your consciousness back to reality and you realized you were lying face up on the floor, mud and other floor substances coated your back. _Yuck._ The twilight sky loomed overhead, fuchsia and orange swirling together. You wished you could sit, calm your racing heartbeat and enjoy the unexpectedly nice view. The more pressing matter, unfortunately, was the matter of Jeff crouching beside you with his knife once again dangerously close to your neck. You didn’t want to risk dying, and you also didn’t want to risk having to kill again. Especially not on Jeff’s command. 

You immediately lurched forward, as far away from him as possible, rolling towards the dead body. As your left side brushed the corpse, you noticed that the knife was still sticking out of it. You rolled onto your stomach and stretched your arm to grab it, but a clammy hand closed around your ankle, and began dragging you away from your chance of freedom.

“What the fuck’s your problem?! Answer me!”

“My problem, the fuck’s your problem?! Get off of me, asshole!” 

Surprisingly, he hadn’t grabbed onto your other leg, so you kicked it back with a good amount of force, and it connected with his chin.

“Fuck!” He cried out, or what sounded like it, then released his clutch on your leg.

You stretched your hand out just a little bit further, and finally grasped the knife by its handle. The energy that you knew all too well spread from your palm to the rest of your body. You clambered to your feet, clumsily wielding the blade. You didn’t wanna kill him, but you weren’t going to take any chances. Not to mention…

“That memory…”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You made direct eye contact with him as he spoke, and a mix of confusion and exasperation changed his expression.

How the hell would you tell him? Was what you remembered actually true? You weren’t about to spill your guts out to this killer creep.

“Jeff, just… leave me alone.”

You turned on your heels and began walking in what you thought was the direction of way out. You didn’t see his expression, and broke into a jog because of worry. The worry that whatever the fuck it was between you and Jeff would dwindle away, because if you’ve learned anything from not having many friends, it’s that you stick with whatever you've got. You shook your head to clear away the other thoughts, and the comforting dusk glow of the bus stop was gentle on your vision. 

Your parents didn’t even seem to be concerned when you arrived late after dinner.

Were they even your parents? More and more thoughts flew around your head as you hurriedly scarfed down your food and went upstairs to your room, slamming the door.

You threw yourself down onto the bed and curled up, doing your best to avoid the swarm of thoughts circling your mind. Back to the window, your only source of light was a ray of moonlight peeking through the window in your room. 

You almost didn’t notice the slightest creak of your window as it was opened. You sure as hell noticed him stepping through the open window into your room with ease. Without turning around you grabbed your pillow and expertly tossed it behind you, rolling your eyes as you heard him step past and dodge the pillow. You started to turn to face him, upset with the fact that he would not leave.

“Ugh, what do you even-” Weight shifted to the corner of the bed and you looked over to see Jeff staring at you with wide eyes and an empty smile. You opened your mouth to say something, then decided otherwise and closed it.

“I know what you did in elementary school.” The statement sent a shock through your spine. He’s been following you. ( _ No shit, he’s in your room. _ )

“Yeah, so I’m a killer. I liked the feeling when I gutted that kid. I’m utterly fucked. Do you want to give me an award for all of this?” He rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a knife. It was the same blade that Jeff had given you to kill that boy. Somehow he managed to get the blood off of it, and you found yourself desperately wanting to curl your hands around the handle. The implicit message made you lean back on the bed, casting your glance up at the ceiling. 

“You’re fun to be around. I wouldn’t mind bringing you along with me provided you… pitch in.” Jeff somehow sounded nervous, like he was afraid of you turning down his… offer. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know, which isn’t much.” 

“What do you mean, pitch in? Do you have some kind of quota you have to meet every year?” You snorted at the thought of Jeff answering to a boss. 

“It’s a little bit more complicated than that. You don’t have to worry about it right now.” He stood up from your bedside and moved to sit over on the windowsill. His expression was unreadable. You already knew what he was waiting for you to say. You sat in the heavy silence, the muffled sounds of the television downstairs comforting your mind. If you left, you wouldn’t be able to appreciate the little things in life. Your room, your daily life, the closest person you could call a friend - Henry. You could probably make more friends and positive life experiences if you tried. Probably.

“I- I don’t know,” You answered. Your mind is torn between one choice and the other. A headache started in the top of your head. “Somehow, I don’t know how, could I get some time to think about it?”

It took Jeff a bit to give a response, and you bit down on your lip from anxiety. But he nodded, standing up and opening your window again.

“One week.” He murmured, and without a sound he’s slipped out of the window.


	7. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have to make a choice.

You tried everything. Every and any sort of method to be able to come sort of conclusion. Some decision. Logically, you knew the police would probably come after you. But almost a week had passed since your talk with Jeff and not even the news had reported any police updates. Could it possible they didn’t have enough evidence? If so, then you wouldn’t need to run away.

But you would have to live your life in fear. Fear that you would be made to suffer. But if you went with Jeff, you would kill innocent people. And over time, you would come to enjoy it.  
You sat back in your seat, gripping your pen as the words on the paper burned into your vision. It felt ridiculous to write out the “pros and cons” of joining Jeff.

The amount of bullet points on your lists were equal. You started to go down the list, adding value to the points you believed and felt more strongly about. You came down to the last points of each list. 

What was more important, saving innocent people’s lives, or preventing yourself from getting caught?

The obvious morally correct choice would be to say that protecting innocent people was far more important that keeping yourself out of prison. You knew that very well. But you couldn’t bring yourself to mark it down. Deep down, you knew you didn’t want to acknowledge your true feelings.

Irritation and anxiety bubbled up in the pit of your stomach and you dropped the pen. You grabbed the list and stuffed it into your desk drawer. Whatever. You could deal with it tomorrow.

With a sigh, you jumped onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You laid there until sleep took you. 

The next day you trudged through your classes, your thoughts occupied with the different outcomes of each decision. Henry seemed especially concerned during lunch, asking way too many questions.

“I promise you dude, I’m okay.” You put your head down on the table, and stared out one of the windows. Suddenly you heard a loud whistle. You turned your head to find the source of the noise. It was a lunch monitor, standing next to two policemen. 

“Officers Edwards and Turner are here to ask a few questions to a couple students, so if you guys would please be respectful and courteous to keep the volume down.

Before you had time to react, you heard Henry’s voice from your other side.

“They’re probably investigating about that junior who was murdered.” Your blood ran cold.

He couldn’t meant the guy that Jeff..

That you…

They knew. They had to know. You slowly raised your head, keeping your facial expression calm.

“T-that sounds pretty scary. I hope they catch the psycho soon.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You leaned forward onto the table again, resting your head in your hands.

“I don’t know, maybe I am being weird. I might be coming down with something.” Out of the corner of your eye you saw him nod. “I should go lick some doorknobs to make sure I get a fever.” The boy next to you laughed loudly, and playfully punched your arm. Internally you let out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

The next classes blurred together in your mind. Soon enough you had arrived at the second bus stop. The bus stop where it all happened. Where it all went wrong. You tensed up, half expecting Jeff to lumber out of the silent woods, bloodied knife in hand. But he didn’t. Even as the bus pulled up and you boarded, there was no sign of the serial killer.

You arrived home, starting at its exterior while starting to feel a tightness in your chest. You had to leave all of this behind. Inside, your parents greeted you with warm smiles. They ushered you into the dining room, where-

No.

No no no no no-

One of the policemen from school was sitting at your dining room table. The other stood at the back of the room, an unreadable expression on his face. The first looked at you with what you thought was a grin.

“Honey, this is Mr. Edwards and Mr. Turner,” Your father murmured. He sounded nervous. “They’re here to ask you some questions.”

Thankfully, you managed to keep a neutral expression as you sat down in the chair opposite Turner.

You managed to keep your hands from visibly shaking until your mom closed the door behind the officers. You quickly wolfed down your dinner and practically ran up the stairs. The sweat on your palms made you struggle with your door momentarily, but you forced the door open and slammed it shut behind you. Tears welled up in your eyes and you sank to the floor. You began silently crying. When you heard your window squeak as it was slid open, you got up and ran over to Jeff. 

Without thinking you threw your arms around him and sobbed into his sweater. He smelled strongly of blood. He stiffened up, but didn’t try to stop you from embracing him.

“Jeff, I…” You sniffled. “I’m the worst. If I were a good person. A normal kind human being who was l-legitimately forced by you to kill someone, I would turn myself in. I would… tell the police all the details of what had happened, and work with them as best as I could to stop you from taking more lives. You’re a k-killer, after all.” He stayed silent.

“But… but I’m awful… I’m just as bad as you. I d-don’t want to go to jail. I don’t wanna be held responsible for all of this… and I… I liked when I killed him… I’m a m-monster.” You sobbed again, and cried into the blood stains. 

Jeff said your name, in a quiet voice but very firm.

“...Yeah?” You looked up at him.

“I’m a monster. I’m awful. I’m an asshole. I know I am. There are some things about ourselves we can’t change. We just gotta accept that shit. You? You’re not an asshole. You ain’t a monster, trust me. You’re bad.. but you’re just cold blooded, ya know? Just have to accept it.”

You had stopped crying at this point, and wiped your tears off on your sleeves.

“You know, Jeff… you’re awful with words.” He scowled at you instantaneously, and opened his mouth. “But that was the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me, and probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” You hugged him again, tight this time, and nuzzled your head into his shoulder. When you looked back up at him, you could have sworn there was a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“A….anyways.. where are your blood-stained clothes? The ones from when you killed?” You let go of him and walked over to your dresser. You couldn’t stand the sight of your top and skirt covered in blood, covered in the blood of your… your victim, so when both your mom and dad were out, you hand washed them and dried them. The two items were presented to him.

“Change into them, as well a couple of spare undergarments. You can’t pack any more than that.”

You followed his instructions without too much hesitation and grabbed a small backpack tossing some spare underwear and bras inside. You didn’t make the connection on how odd this was until you started to pull your shirt up before remembering just in time that Jeff was still there and very obviously staring at you.

“Maybe you could turn around?” He blushed.

“S-sorry.” You really didn’t expect that kind of bashful response from  _ him _ of all people.

You had your shirt pulled up over your head when he muttered something under his breath.

“Hot girls are so distracting…”

_ What? _

_ No, seriously, what? _

“Are you saying I’m hot?” You replied, oh so curious to see what his response would be.

His back instantly straightened, and he walked over to the window in your room, silent.

Disappointed, you threw on your shirt and swapped your pants for the skirt. You dropped your dirty clothes into your hamper. Zipping up your bag, you turned around to face your room for the last time. You would miss it. Really fucking badly. But… you were a killer. You were born to be cold blooded. Ruthless. It’s time you accepted it as who you were meant to be.

“C’mon Jeff-who-has-a-crush-on-me, let’s get out of here.” You leaned into his back, and he jumped at the contact.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Oh, so it’s true?”

“Fuck off!”

“You know, I do like you. If you had a crush on me, I wouldn’t mind it one bit…”

Jeff snarled and gripped your hand to guide you. You giggled and held his hand back.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks so much for reading this! This is the end of the story, although I will eventually release a, uh, lewd bonus chapter that features some spicy screwing. Hope you all enjoyed!


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